There are no odes written for them.
They receive no adulation no recognition
And yet there can be no doubt
They are the greatest
The greatest actors playing on the world’s stage.
There see, yes right there
See how they flow to the next scene.
The next story.
See how taut they hold the pause.
See how seamless they transition.
They are the oldest of us all.
Before time was even born
They have been watching.
And yet they are not revered.
They are not loved.
The most delicious shiver down your spine.
The warmest, ebbing golden
See the wind rustle the leaves
Begging them to play again.
“Another story, please.”